#i tried to make the categories quite universal

[rhettrosunsets]

Just Acquaintances - Bob Floyd X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Bob Floyd X Rival Fem!Reader

Category: Rivals To Lovers. Slight Angst. Fluff.

Summary: You knew one thing, you didn't like Bob Floyd and he didn't like you, but when you got get assigned to Top Gun, thing's begin to change. Even if you keep claiming you're just acquaintances.

Based off this ask here!

Masterlist

Warnings: Reader does wear a dress, there's a guy being an asshole at the bar and making suggestive comments about reader, Bob and reader have tension. Reader is very firey and want's to prove herself so badly. Inaccurate military knowledge. No use of Y/N. No description of readers looks.

Notes: Anon thank you so much for suggesting this! I had so much fun getting to write this, and I hope I did your ask justice. ❤️

Edited ✅

You couldn’t even remember what your first argument was about during basic training. It was probably something stupid. You always trying to prove your worth. You always wanted get the last word in, always wanting to succeed. And Bob Floyd always made that so much harder.

From that day forward, you knew one thing, and one thing only. You really didn’t like Bob Floyd. People were always shocked when you mentioned that fact. He was so polite, always a gentleman. He never raised his voice at anyone, even you. He took everything as it came, always so grounded, always so assured even if he didn’t boast about it. And it irked you like no other.

The two of you became rivals, always trying to one up the other. Something many people weren't used to seeing from Bob, always used to seeing the polite yet assured version of him. It was something all your peers tried to steer clear from when you two got into it.

You were so fiery, so sharp and always ready to take action as fast as you humanly could. You just wanted so badly to just prove yourself and you wouldn't stop at anything to do it. Bob was steadier, more grounded. He always thought things through and was more consistent with his results. You clashed constantly, or complimented each other depending on who you asked.

Your instructors always said that you brought out the best in each other, always pushing each other to the limit, testing each other like no one else quite could. You would’ve preferred peace and quiet, not new limits. Eventually, time split the two of you apart as you got stationed to different bases and you couldn't have been more thankful. There were no goodbyes, no long hug’s, no more bickering, no more curt nods in hallways, no more pushing one another. Just orders and silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that should’ve been the end of you and Bob Floyd forever. Just a slight bookmark in one's path. But the universe seemed to have other plans.  The moment you walked into The Hard Deck for the first time your heart sank. There he was. The man you thought you'd never run into again.

Bob Floyd.

He looked up the same second you did, your eyes meeting. His eye’s seemingly doing a double take just as you had done a moment earlier. He gave you an unreadable stare, a distinct change from the polite smile he had while talking to the other aviators just a moment before you had walked in. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was thinking five steps ahead of you. The kind of look that made you feel like he always knew something you didn’t. The type of look you’ve missed.

“Lieutenant.” he greeted as you walked over with a curt nod of his head. You responded with a nod back, before muttering out a “Floyd.” In response.

Phoenix blinked between you two her eyes sensing the tension between you. "There's some history there.” she muttered to the rest of the aviators behind her, all watching the scene go down in front of them.

Hangman grinned widely before chuckling out “Exes?” as he nodded at the two of you.

You scoffed, while Bob seemingly choked on his drink before you muttered. “Absolutely not.”

Everyone else thought the tension was flirtatious, like it was a cat and mouse game you two had going. But you knew better, you knew that you and Bob Floyd didn’t even want to touch each other with a ten foot pole.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

Weeks had passed, you avoided him and he avoided you. It was like a truce compared to your training days. You expected this to all be over after the Uranium Mission. But then you all had gotten called into a briefing.A briefing telling you that the Dagger Squad was about to become permanent.

When the Dagger Squad became permanent, something started shifting between you and Bob Floyd. It was small things at first. He started holding the door open for you when you guys walked into the building at the same time. You stopped glaring at him when he got the final shot during trainings. He began to sit near you during lunch. You even laughed when he made a comment about Rooster's mustache.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes seemed to light up at the sound of your laugh and the sight of you throwing your head back because of something he had said.

But others began to notice, even if you didn't.

“We’re not enemies. We're just acquaintances, nothing less nothing more.” you told Natasha one night at The Hard Deck, and it was true. You don’t think you were ever enemies. Rivals, of course. But never truly enemies.

She raised her glass as she looked at you with a raised eyebrow and said “To progress, then.”

Then came the night where everything came crashing down at once.

You’d finished an absolutely brutal week of training, and you decided you just wanted to look nice and dress up for yourself. For once, you weren’t in a flight suit. Instead, you wore a cute outfit, a soft dress that you loved on yourself and how it makes you feel. You weren’t what anyone expected you to be tonight, you were just you. No flight suit, no expectations, just you wearing something that made you feel good and confident.

The Hard Deck was absolutely packed. The jukebox blared loudly and the rest of the squad besides Bob was already a few beers in. You were leaning against the bar, sipping on your drink and laughing with Fanboy when he showed up.

Some random guy in knock off aviators, with an ego so big you could feel it the moment he walked near you.

“You look like you could use company, pretty girl.” he said, sliding in to the chair next to you, way too close for comfort. You shifted your stance awkwardly trying to shuffle away from the man, politely nodding a soft smile before responding with a simple “I’m good, thank you.” before attempting to end the conversation then and there.

He ignored that entirely not taking the hint of you leaning away from him, as he leaned even closer to you his breath fanning your shoulder. “You sure? You got a smile that men would gladly go to war for sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw your eyes darkening a bit, before trying one more time. “M’really not interested. I'd appreciate if you moved.”

And that’s when Bob appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

“You heard her” he said, his tone way too calm for the rage present in his eyes, and the way his hands where clenching into fists.

The guy scoffed with a laugh before sputtering out a “Who the hell are you? Her fucking babysitter?”

Bob stepped forward, his eye’s filled with something much stronger than anger. “I’m her squadmate. And I'm also someone who doesn’t like repeating himself, so I suggest you leave.” He said firmly, leaving no room for questions.

The dude held his hands up, walking away as he muttered something about "psychopathic aviators" and you being a bitch anyways.

The moment he was gone, you spun around to face Bob. “What the hell was that?” You exclaimed with your hands, your face morphed into something between hurt and anger. He blinked, taken aback by your intense reaction. “I was just trying-”

You cut him off

“I had it Bob, I didn’t need you stepping in like I’m fucking helpless!” You said harshly, your voice betraying you a bit as emotion seeped through.

“You didn’t look helpless” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You looked uncomfortable, I just-”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone, Bob.” You said loudly, your eyes welling up.

Bob looked like he’d been slapped as he saw your defeated face and welling eyes. The bar seemed to disappear from both of your ears. All that existed was the frustrated flush on your face, the tears in your eyes, and the regret already forming as you saw the way Bob’s jaw flexed.

He sighed loudly, before looking at you. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

You frowned confusing lining your features “What? What are you talking about Bob.”

“I like you” he said simply, like he didn’t just knock your breath away.

“I’ve always liked you. I just didn’t know how to act on it because we were always arguing. You’re so fucking smart and witty. You don’t take shit from anyone, but you’re one of the most kindhearted people I know, and it drives me insane knowing I've never been able to have you.” He said with a tone of voice that made it sure that you knew you couldn't argue with him on this.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out as you stand there bewildered, your eyes glossy and wide.

“And I get it if you don’t feel the same” he said as he looked away from your confused expression. “But I wasn’t gonna stand there and let some asshole disrespect you. I couldn’t do that, you deserve so much better than an asshole like that. I know you can handle yourself, but he couldn’t get away with treating you like you were an object and not a human.”

And suddenly before you even knew it, your hands moved before your brain and you grabbed the sides of his face tilting it down toward yours.

His eyes widened just for a moment, before your lips crashed into his. It was years of tension, of stolen glances and arguing all combined into one. It was hot and aching and full of something you hadn’t even realized you needed to feel.

When you pulled back, your breath hitched as you looked at Bob, the both of you seemingly dazed. Bob laughed softly as his face still was dazed “So is that a yes?”

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him close again. “That’s a shut up and let's do it again, Floyd.’”

And he did. Right there, in the middle of the Hard Deck with the whole Dagger Squad watching like it was a soap opera.

Hangman whistled loudly, before shouting a “I knew that wasn’t platonic!” While Phoenix raised a shot glass with a knowing smirk on her lips and yelled. “To not being acquaintances.”

You snorted softly before leaning back in and kissing Bob one last time, feeling his hands wrap around your waist.

Maybe you were more than just acquaintances after all.

[namism]

first shot (1) | koby

➳ categories: modern au, established relationship ➳ warnings: nsfw (virgin koby, afab reader, masturbation, dry humping, koby has wild fantasies) ➳ word count: 4k

➳ summary: You're Koby's first at everything, so naturally, he has the wildest fantasies about you.

➳ PART ONE | PART TWO | FANART (credits to mibso) ➳ notes: dedicated to and requested by @mibso! 🩷 ➳ cross-posted on ao3

"Did you date anyone before me?"

Koby looks behind his shoulder to eye your laid back form on the bay window of your kitchen. Shaking his head, he looks back at the cup of hot milk in front of him, swirling the liquid to dissolve the clumps of chocolate powder he just dumped five seconds ago.

"No. You're my first."

"So, you're a virgin?"

Koby swears he would have dropped his cup had he been holding it. Instead, he drops the metal spoon and tries with all his might to process your words.

His response is delayed.

"I am," he settles, but it comes out weak, small.

You grin. Koby knew you would. Dating you for the last three months has given him enough foresight for your actions, and you're quite known for your cheekiness. You love seeing him flustered, but he doesn't mind it. Not at all.

You hop off the bay and stroll over to your boyfriend. He prepares himself for your mild teasing, but it doesn't come. You kiss his cheek instead.

"Okay."

It's the last thing you tell him before you disappear into the living room, never to be seen again for the next ten minutes. When Koby peeks past the kitchen archway, he sees you engrossed in the same series you've been watching the past week. Too occupied, he thinks, you won't even bother answering him if he prods any further.

So he sits beside you with his cup of hot chocolate in both hands. He drowns his flustered thoughts in a sea of happy ones, laughing his nerves away as he watches the show you just put on.

But even as he leaves your flat and swaddles himself in his blankets that evening, he's reminded by your questions. Your voice echoes in his head even when his eyes are closed, when exhaustion coos him into slumber. To his luck, the image of your playful grin stays in his head the following morning and the morning after that.

Eventually, he snaps.

"Seriously, now," he whispers to himself because he's ashamed of how he feels. He was in the middle of entertaining Hibari's questions when she brought you up in the middle of a convo and it sent him spiraling.

"I have yet to ask about it," she continued, but Koby was long gone. He doesn't remember what other request Hibari had for him after that. All he remembers is giving a half-assed excuse before scrambling back to his dorm where he can take a breather, and now that he's here, he collects himself painstakingly.

He reflects on his feelings as his body sinks into his bed. Two things are for sure: one, he's still hung up on the question you decided to ask three weeks ago, and two, he's painfully, painfully hard. Very hard.

Koby looks down at his pants. He groans. This isn't the first time he's been hard like this, or the second, or the third. He knows it's out of character. It's beyond stereotypes, superficial impressions. But contrary to what most people think, Koby's been hard several times in his life and he's jacked off more than one would expect, with his own set of fantasies fueling his wildest actions in private—he just doesn't make them public, doesn't voice them out loud. He thinks that if he would, ill-natured banter is going to bite him in the ass, so he shuts up. He keeps quiet.

Unfortunately, he's a virgin. It's quite pathetic, really, but at the same time, maybe not so much. Most people don't lose their virginity until university, so Koby has a few years left until his situation becomes too pathetic for someone who wants to have sex—but he can't blame anybody but himself because he doesn't make the effort to initiate, and never has.

Until getting with you.

Since entering an exclusive relationship with you, Koby has done many things he's never dreamed of doing until age 30 because he's stereotyped as the innocent cutiepie. A sweetheart, a pure soul. You've initiated all things remotely sexual with him—kissing, making out, subtle consensual groping that coaxes a moan out of him—but it never escalates to something more. At least not yet.

It's expected to happen someday. With how you throw yourself at him at any given chance, Koby thinks about giving your relationship a month or two before it happens. Before it gets there. But for now, he's confined to his thoughts and fantasies.

Without question, he grips himself. A sigh leaves his lips when he presses his balls just a bit to relieve the pressure within his pants. He traces his dick with his fingers moments later and spends a minute in deep silence. Half of his thoughts are occupied with sexual fantasies, but the other half speaks to him out of exhaustion. He's tired after a long day, that's no question. Is he willing to spend the last of his energy jacking off?

Koby makes a decision not long after that. Tiredly, he undoes his buttons and slips out of his pants, which he discards on the floor with his shoes. He pumps himself a few times with slow languid movements, like he's still debating whether or not he should stop—but the reluctance jumps out the window once he remembers you, his girlfriend, the very reason why he's in this state, and imagines you kissing him sensually while he touches himself.

As painfully hard as he is, Koby doesn't rush. One hand works himself just the way he needs, while the other is splayed on the sheets to ground himself. His strokes are fluid, beginning from the base of his dick and ending up at his tip before going back down again.

His eyes fall close.

He imagines you again. In his darkest thoughts, you're stripping for him until you're in nothing but your underwear. In his head, you spread your legs wide open for him while your tits bounce free from your bra. Your hair would fall on his pillows. You would guide his dick inside you. In the heat of the moment, Koby speeds his touches and grips his cock tighter, the pressure that presents at his stomach almost unimaginable.

"Fuck, wow— like that please."

He's thinking about what you can do to him. You're bold, you take initiative. So maybe you'd tease his cock with your hands until he's whimpering for release or until he's shooting cum uncontrollably after being edged to his limit. Maybe you can dip your head low and start blowing him clean after his orgasm, or maybe you can wet his cock with your mouth before fucking him again.

You'd guide him to different positions. Maybe you'd start with your favorite. He doesn't know what they are, but he's bound to find out. You probably like the ones that accentuate your features—cowgirl to show your ass, missionary for your tits. Then, when his energy is spent, he can flip you over and take control from behind. Or he can pin you to the wall for a change. Or he can fuck you standing up, if that's your thing. Koby has been working out the past year. Picking you up is no big deal.

He opens his eyes. His cock can't get any harder, any redder. He wets his hand with spit and puts more pressure on his head, teasing it every so often until he's whimpering for more, whimpering like you're there with him. Like you're watching him. Beads of cum stream down the side of his dick as he teases himself further, his thumb swiping over his head, and his fingers massaging his balls just the way he likes it. He traces the underside of his dick with his pointer finger, sickly pretending that it's you, your wet tongue that he would love to suck on given the off chance that you're up for it.

"Fuck, that's so..." Koby curses, but his cock pulses in his hand and he has to take a deep breath in. Hot. 'Hot' is what he would like to say, but he feels embarrassed enough by the barrage of dirty thoughts in his head that he can't get himself to speak it aloud. The best he can do is to curse, but even his faintest curses are muffled by his shyness.

"So, you're a virgin?"

Yes. Yes, he is. So what? Do you want to fuck him, too? Are you meticulously planning on swiping his virginity after months of innocent and not-so-innocent kisses? Koby's eyebrows furrow. Are you thinking of fucking him of his virginity like he's thinking of fucking you?

It doesn't matter, Koby says in his head, and there's a silent agreement between himself and his demons that it truly doesn't because his resolve is quite clear. He can give you all of him if it means getting to fuck you, taste you, and see how good your mouth sucks him dry.

"Fuck, please, please," he begs, "please, please, please, I feel so good, please—"

He cums. It's quite a lot. A waterfall of white liquid leaks from his dick, shooting into his sheets that he has to change later on. Koby doesn't care, though. He keeps cumming into oblivion, wishing again that it's your face he's painting white. As his vision clears in the next few minutes, he decides he'd act on it when he can.

"Next time," he says through heavy pants.

Next time, he's having you.

"Is everything okay in there?"

You're in Koby's dorm room twenty or so minutes later. It's eight in the evening, so you decided to drop by with an offering of store-bought pastries from the bakery that just opened downtown, figuring that he hasn't had anything to eat since that morning. Problem is, Koby was in the shower when you arrived and it's been more than ten minutes since then, so now, you're knocking on his bathroom door.

You're half-worried and half-curious on what he's up to because he hasn't uttered a word since you announced your arrival, which is nothing short of strange. If there's one thing you know about your boyfriend, it's the speed at which guilt eats him up. Koby would've felt bad about making you wait, so he'd storm out of the shower once he learns that you've been waiting for him and apologize profusely.

That doesn't seem to be happening now, though.

"Sorry, just a second!"

With that, you strut back to his study desk and waste your time on a mobile game until Koby emerges from the bathroom. He's hosed down from head to toe, his kobi pink-colored hair thrashed around in a wet mess in need of combing. Although the oddest of it all, beyond the suspicious amount of time it took him to shower, is probably the fact that he's dressed in his pre-shower clothes.

If you squint hard enough, you can see his chest peeking past his white shirt, the fabric sticking to his damp skin and outlining the ridges of his chest.

"You're soaked," you point out.

He laughs nervously.

"Yes, um, I just— I just got out of the shower," he explains, but he sees the source of his problems on the bed. "I didn't bring the towel with me."

Shaking your head, you turn your back toward him. You dig through the bag of pastries, picking out the flavor Koby would appreciate as a post-shower snack. "I could've brought it to you," you say. "Anyway, I bought you something. Check these out when you get changed. I won't look."

Koby nods like you can see him, snatches the towel from his bed, and ransacks his closet for a fresh set of clothes. He hurries to the bathroom, then meets you back outside a few minutes later.

You spin around in his chair. "Did you just change in the bathroom?"

"Yes?" he replies in a questioning tone. "Yes."

You shrug. "I told you I wasn't going to look."

"I was scared you would—" Oh. At that moment, Koby realizes that he is his own downfall. You were signaling an innuendo, suggesting that it was okay for him to change with you around. That you weren't going to ridicule him or anything, that he was safe being bare and vulnerable with you. He wishes he realized this sooner, but he's too abashed to backtrack his words. "That was my bad."

Chuckling to yourself, you walk over to him and throw your arms around his waist. He reciprocates instantly and looks at the pastry in your hands.

"Sweets to fill your stomach?"

The night proceeds calmly, but Koby has to walk back to the bathroom at one point to collect his thoughts. You have no clue what you just walked into earlier. He was in the middle of washing himself clean when you snuck into his room using the spare key he gave you a month ago. The moment he heard you come in, panic consumed him alive until he realized just how lucky he was to have finished before you visited.

As Koby watches you ramble about your day on his bed, he's awfully thankful that he had half the mind to change his bedsheets after that.

"Hey, do you moisturize or something? Why's there a bottle of lotion by your pillows?"

He isn't thankful for his forgetfulness, however, as you seem to have caught up with his dirty antics. Koby watches you feel under his pillows, where you eventually find a bottle of lotion that he had suspiciously hidden there. He panics.

"I-I forgot to"—he gulps—"put it back in the cabinets a-and stuff."

"'And stuff'? I know your hands are smooth, but I always thought they were naturally like that," you say as you inspect the bottle. It's when you raise a questioning brow and Koby pathetically tries to wrestle it from your hold that you burst out laughing. "No way, please don't tell me you—"

"I don't!" He panics. "I don't use— I don't do that silly stuff! Can you please give it back to me?!"

Koby reaches for the bottle in your hands, but you stubbornly move it away. "It fascinates me how guys use lotion to masturbate," you remark. "How does it feel?"

"Good," he answers. His eyes widen. "Actually, very bad. ACTUALLY, I don't even use it! Give it back!"

You smirk. "Pervert."

"I'm not!"

Satisfied with his answer, you toss him back the bottle. Koby shoves it deep inside his closet and comes back to the bed with a face colored pink.

"I know much better alternatives to lotion," you tease. He shakes his head.

"I don't need them."

You laugh. "I'm kidding, you dork. You're so adorable." Falling back into his pillows, you open your arms toward him. Koby crawls over to you and gently lays his head on the pillow beside you.

"I think we should have a sleepover one day," you whisper.

Koby doesn't know where that suggestion came from, but with his thoughts still muddled, there's one thing he wishes that would happen at a sleepover with you.

"I think we should," he says.

A few weeks later, you celebrate your four months together. Koby takes you out to somewhere special after your morning classes, and by evening, you're spending a heartfelt discussion with him by the seaside. When the sun dips past the horizon, you take the peaceful walk back to your apartment, where Koby decides to stay for the night.

"We should put a movie on. Or a show," you suggest as you emerge from your bedroom, freshly showered and clothed in your pajamas. You snuggle beside Koby on the couch, where he flips through the Netflix shows projected on your TV.

"Forever just released," he says. "It's based on a book by Judy Blume, but we have other options."

You shrug. "Put whatever you like."

Koby settles for a coming-of-age movie, a film so reminiscent of the high school days the both of you lived together. Halfway through the film, you've shimmied yourself next to him until he's spooning you on the couch, your legs entangled with his and your face tucked in between his arms.

"Um," Koby stutters as the screen goes dark and orchestrated moans fill the room, "this is awkward."

You sneer. "Figures. Teenagers are horny."

"Yeah..." he says. Looking back at the screen, he makes a face of horror as a sex scene drags on longer than he expected. "But this is unlooked for."

You move around on the couch to face him. Koby looks down at you in his arms. "Don't be a prude," you tease.

"I'm not," he retorts, but he takes it back. "Actually, I kinda am. But this is too much vulgarity for a 16+ movie."

"Of course, a puritan critic." You look back at the screen. The girl is getting her shit rammed raw in a cinematic sequence like the ones you've seen in Euphoria, with the only difference being the magnitude of sexual display overpowering that of the HBO show. Your boyfriend might have a point, but you aren't about to give him that.

"You're making fun of me again," he says. He pokes the side of your waist. You squirm.

"I was joking."

You hit his hip bone to retaliate, but your hand lands dangerously close to somewhere untouched. Koby swears his head spun during the 2 seconds your hand glided across his skin, but he keeps his perverted thoughts at bay because he doesn't want to be disrespectful. When he looks past your head and sees the erotica on the TV, however, he's immediately challenged by his demons.

Little does he know that this is only the start of a tempting evening.

"Come to think of it, I haven't kissed you enough today." Flirtatiously, your hands encircle Koby's head and begin to get handsy with his face. You trace the side of his cheek, his jaw, his neck, until your hands land on his chest. You push him farther into the couch until he's laying on his back, while you hold yourself up on your elbows.

"What are you doing?" he asks, but it comes out as a mumble. Frankly, Koby knows what you're doing. You've kissed him in the same manner before, but the erotic noises coming from the TV and his four-month-long sexual yearning impair his ability to think properly. As you knead his skin through his clothes, you peck his cheek with slow sensual kisses, eventually getting close enough to his lips.

"I'm kissing you," you say in between pecks. "Show is giving me some ideas. Didn't get to kiss you enough today. Happy four months."

Four months, Koby thinks to himself. Not to be a pervert, but Koby wonders if four months is a decent period of time to get seriously sexual with you. He knows it's taboo for some people, but you don't seem to mind it. Your flirty stunts prove that.

Still, Koby holds himself. He doesn't let temptation take over even if he wants it to. The most he does is to support your body weight with a strong arm, then, once you're satisfied with his face, he parts his lips wide enough for yours to slip in just the way they always do. Koby doesn't do much but give you control, instead cherishing a moment well-spent between the both of you.

It starts slow, but kissing you always starts that way. When you climb on top of him and straddle his waist, Koby feels his stomach turn. He's never had you do that before. Worse, he's never made out with you at such a private time. It feels like one passionate kiss away from the best fuck of his life—not that he's had prior experience, but if he did, he'd call the shots right here, right now.

With that, Koby decides that he's horny. His dick stirs in his pajamas in response to your consistent work on his lips. You move more passionately than all the times you've kissed him, your hips matching the rhythm of your lips. Koby tries his hardest to prevent an erection, but your ass lightly grazes him a few times and he admits defeat.

It doesn't take you long to notice it. When you move back, you feel his hard-on through your pajamas. You gaze at his pelvis, but Koby directs your lips back to his with a guiding hand.

As you kiss him once more, you sit down on him. Koby gasps loudly. His hands suddenly come up to feel your hips, your waist, and anything else that they can hold onto. Experimentally, you roll your hips on him, and his grip tightens around your body.

You repeat it for the next couple of minutes to rile him up. Koby responds well to your movements, his lips parting for a whimper and his hips wriggling through the pleasure.

When you're spent, you attach your lips to his jaw and tiredly kiss the skin down his neck. "Koby..." you mumble.

"Yes?" He cranks his head away to allow you more space. He looks at you through hooded eyes, wondering what you're up to next.

You push yourself down on him. Koby feels you through your pajamas, a growing wetness in your pussy. Suddenly, he fears you stopping. He hopes that you don't.

You bite down lightly on his neck. Koby makes a noise.

Looking up at him, you ask, "Do you want me to blow you?"

His eyes snap back down at you. He looks at you through equally watery eyes, needy irises, and plump lips. Koby begins to lose his mind. He's so hard. And in need. But he can't form a coherent reply. Fuck. Is this real?

"Like... that blowing?" is what comes out of his mouth. You grind down on him another time, and this time, Koby doesn't restrain the moan that escapes his lips. He lets it free in your living room, where it battles with the background noise tinkling from the TV.

"Yes. Give you head," you tell him. You snuggle your head into his neck and leave gentle kisses on his skin. "Do you want it?"

Koby's automatic answer is yes. Of course he wants it. As a matter of fact, he's been wanting it for ages. He even yearns for it in his dreams. He doesn't believe it's actually happening, though, so he makes a nervous decision.

But the moment he says yes, you're smiling from ear-to-ear with excitement. You peck his lips before crawling down to his lower body and feeling his thighs. Your hands coil around the hem of his pajamas and slowly pull them down past his hips.

But suddenly, your ringtone alarms from the coffee table.

"Oh no," you curse, "oh no, no, no, you've got to be fucking kidding."

As you hop off the couch and race to answer your phone, Koby's face twists into a frown. Disappointment is etched across his face. You come back into the living room some seconds later, mouthing the words, "my mother" before going back to your bedroom to take the call.

So, Koby shifts around the couch and lays his head on the armrest dejectedly. He's still hard as shit—that's no question—but he doubts you would want to go back to doing the nasty with him right after speaking to your mother. Besides, putting it realistically, he doubts he'd even have the balls to ask you to continue.

When you come back five minutes later, he's admittedly more bummed out than horny. Sensing his disappointment, you cuddle next to him instead.

However, Koby feels that you're equally upset, so he hugs you tightly and rubs a comforting hand on your back.

"It's okay. You can give it to me anytime," he tells you.

You look at him. His eyes are still glossy and his lips are still plump, but you don't miss the sexual frustration on his face. "Anytime?" you ask.

There's a sparkle in your eyes that Koby cherishes. He loves you.

"Yes. Anytime."

[maplebellsmods]

Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod: 2

Ok..more storytelling and relationship options for your sims! 

(Really tried my best to push this out before the end of Jan) 😮‍💨

If you want more info about the mod check this page out: Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod 

This time around created more relationship bits. Here they are

I wanted to try something new this time, which is why it took me so much time. I'll get into it later.

But there are a few new things I have added and changed from the previous one. First off, there are more interactions available: social interactions, phone interactions, and rabbit hole interactions.

Each one of these interactions corresponds to a specific relationship bit.

Healing Touch: 'Plan Relaxing Activities Together,' 'Offer Comfort through Hugs and Physical Touch.'

Wisdom Seekers: 'Ask Questions about the Universe.'

Unbreakable Connection: 'Celebrate Anniversary of Enduring Connection,' 'Promise Everlasting Friendship' (Only available pre-promise).

I do need to note that, just like the other mod, many of these are cosmetic and don't have a full effect yet. (Emphasis on 'yet,' as I will slowly but surely make these more functional.)

If your Sims have the Wisdom Seeker, Tech-Savvy Partners, or Night Owl Companions relationship bits, some interactions will unlock on the phone:

Wisdom Seeker: Study Together at the Library 

Tech-Savvy Partners: Send Tech News 

Night Owl Companions: Night Time Activities Menu 

(Regarding nighttime activities, I haven't found a workaround for this issue yet. However, here's a temporary solution: When selecting an activity for the two Sims who have the rabbit, choose the Sim you want to go with first, and then select yourself again using the same option. I'm not sure why this happens, but it can be a bit inconvenient. I'll work on making the process more streamlined in the future, but for now, this is how you can get them to go to the same activity.)

The new feature I've been working on, which I'm quite excited about, involves social interactions. I've always felt that many social interactions lacked depth and context. So, what I'm currently working on is creating social interactions to fill that gap

One of these interactions is 'Provide Emotional Support,' which is available for Sims with the 'Healing Touch' relationship.

In this interaction, your Sim will be presented with several options when they are feeling sad. Your Sim can choose from these options to express why they are feeling sad. Once they make a selection, the other Sim will ask for more context, leading to the exchange of contextual advice and reassurance.

I've also developed another social interaction, 'Try to Confess Feelings,' which is available for Sims experiencing 'Unrequited Love.

Attempting to confess your feelings will lead to various outcomes depending on the option you choose. In this interaction, the Sim who hears the confession will have several response options available.

The choice made by the listening Sim will have an impact on their relationship, both romantically and platonically. Some response options may harm the relationship more than others.

The way the Sim responds through the animation doesn't affect the outcome. I've designed it this way to leave the choice entirely in the player's hands. However, unless both Sims are in a flirty mood and have a high friendship level, the Sim who hears the confession will always use the rejection animation. Nevertheless, this animation choice doesn't alter the outcome.

The social interaction 'Forbid Relationship With' can be used either before or after designating two Sims as star-crossed lovers. Some of the options will even add the 'star-crossed lovers' relationship bit to the two Sims (if they didn't have it), while others will remove it (if they did have it).

The interaction can be found under the Mean -- Arguments Pie Menu Category. Only a parent, grandparent, uncle, or caregiver can trigger the interaction. 

Depending on the chosen options, the relationship can either suffer a negative or experience a positive impact. While all of the options will influence the relationship, certain responses will have a significantly greater effect on it than others.

These are all the main points! I hope you all enjoy this new feature because I'm eager to create more! There will be additional interactions and other things I'll be adding to this mod. I'm constantly learning new things, and it's truly enjoyable to implement them!

Download Here

Public Feb 24

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for wring amputees: its ok if your amputee can't repair their own prosthetics

There's a trope in fiction for amputees to always be these mechanical geniuses who can make and repair their own prosthetics, endlessly tinkering away and improving them. This isn't a particularly trope, and i dont think its harmful or anything, but in reality, prosthetics are REALLY, REALLY complicated, and a lot of amputees cant do their own repairs. And thats ok. Like, prosthetic creation and repair is way, way harder than I think people expect. Well outside the skillset of your standard mechanic, handy man or craftsperson.

People who make and repair prosthetics are called prosthetists. To become a prosthetist, most countries around the world today require you to have completed a bachelor's degree in specifically in prosthetics and orthotics, which covers not only how to make a prosthetics (and orthodics) but a great deal of medical knowledge, physics, how different forces impact "non-standard" bodies, the additional biological wear-and-tear that comes with being an amputee and so much more. This will qualify you to do the job of fitting/making the prosthetic socket (the part that attaches to your body) and putting premade components together to make a functioning device. On top of this, many prosthetists are also expected to have artistic skills, sewing skills, good physical strength and dexterity, IT skills, and more recently, knowledge of 3D modelling and printing.

You want to make all the high-tech components the prosthetists put together to make the full prosthetic? The requirements for that vary country to country, but most will require at least some level study in the field of engineering and/or medicine, on top of what was already required for the prosthetics course.

The reason for all this is because even "basic" prosthetics are extremely finicky, and messing up one thing will have a domino effect on the rest of the body, especially in more complicated prosthetics. It can also result in people getting severally injured if anything is even slightly off. many leg amputees for example end up with spinal issues due to extremely minor issues with their prosthetic that weren't caught until years later, and by then the damage had been done.

Some amputees do learn to do basic repairs. This is most common in places like the US, where a visit to the prosthetist can cost hundred to thousands of dollars (depending on your insurance), but it's also quite common in rural parts of countries like Australia, where cost isn't an issue but access is due to vast distances between major cities. I was personally in this category; as a kid, my nearest prosthetist was 6 hours away. My prosthetist was able to teach my dad, who later taught me, how to do some of the simple repairs, but we still needed to go in every few weeks for the more complex stuff (Kids prosthetic need more adjusting than adults because they're still growing. Also I was rough on my prosthetics and broke them a lot lol).

But even after being taught how to do repairs and having my prosthetics for 20+ years, I only ever did these sorts of repairs to my below-knee prosthetic. I will not do any repairs of any kind to my above knee leg, which is much more technologically complex. Every time I tried, I made it worse to the point where the leg was unusable. I just leave those repairs to the guy who went to university to learn how to do it, and sometimes even he needs to send it off to someone with even more specialist knowledge when it's really badly messed up lol. Last time that happened Australia post lost the package. Not really relevant to this post, I just find the idea of it being sent to the wrong place by accident hilarious, it was one of my more realistic legs too so someone probably had a heart attack when they opened that package lmao.

Anyway, back on track lol.

This isn't even touching on the fact that on some more advanced prosthetics, many features are actually locked behind a security barrier only prosthetists can access. My prosthetic knee has an app on my phone I can pair it to, that allows me to change certain settings and swap between certain modes for different activities that tell the leg to change its behaviour depending on what I'm doing (e.g. a mode for running, a mode for cycling etc). but most of the more in-depth settings I can't access, only my prosthetist can, and he can only gain access to those settings with a security key given to him by the manufacturing company that requires him to provide proof of his credentials to receive it. I don't really agree with this btw, something about being locked out of my own leg's settings makes me feel a bit of an ick, but it's set up like this because people used to be able to access these settings and they would mess with things to the point their leg was virtually unusable. Because altering one setting had a domino effect on all the others, and a lot of folks weren't really paying attention to what they were messing with, all their prosthetists could do was factory reset the whole leg, which causes some issues too. Prosthetic arms are often similarly complex, as I understand it and have similar security barriers in place for more advanced arms. I don't know for sure though, so take that with a grain of salt.

All this to say these are incredibly delicate, finicky and complex pieces of equipment. There's nothing wrong with having a techy amputee character who can do their own repairs, but in reality, that is pretty rare, and its ok to have your character need to see a prosthetist or someone more knowledgeable than them. It's a part of the amputee experience I don't see reflected very often in media. In fact, the only examples I can think of in fiction (meaning not stories based on real people) where this is reflected are Full metal alchemist.

technically I think Subnautica Below Zero also mentions prosthetists are a thing in that world, but its a very "blink and you'll miss it" kind of thing...in fact I did miss it until my last playthrough lol.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 19: yarn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Upon arriving at the building, the first thing Spencer encountered was a figure skillfully moving their hands, sitting in a lotus position, hunched over the sofa in the common area of the apartments.

The man was renting that apartment. Most of those who rented in that place were young people, some studying at university and others simply too comfortable to find something better. You, however, did not fall into either of those categories.

You were the niece of the elderly landlord and apparently lived with her after some unpleasant family situations. That’s why you were usually around, and seeing you knit had become a habit of his.

“Hello”

“Hi, Spencer! How have you been?” you asked, with a cheerful expression on your face. You weren’t wearing shoes, and there was a basket with a bunch of yarn on the floor, from which you were probably taking for whatever garment you were making.

“Good, a bit… busy, but everything has been fine.”

“I heard that the other day you helped my aunt with some plumbing work that needed doing. I didn’t know you had that kind of knowledge.”

“It was something very basic, nothing out of this world,” he murmured, trying to be modest. “What are you knitting?”

Spencer wasn’t used to talking much with the other tenants, perhaps out of shyness or perhaps because he didn’t want to interact with people in general. But with you, it was different; you always seemed interested in what he said and often showed yourself to be friendly. That’s why he didn’t mind sitting on the other sofa for a while.

“A blouse; I have a rough idea…” you carefully pulled out a simple handmade drawing from the basket and held it out to him. “I still don’t know if those will be the colors; I’m deciding.”

“How do you have so much time to do that?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Knitting isn’t that hard once you get used to it. It’s all about following patterns, and before you know it, you have something solid to wear.”

You carefully approached him and developed quite an informative chat about the types of stitches, needles, yarn, colors, thickness… you were quite the expert on the subject.

He didn’t know there was so much to know to carry out such an activity, and suddenly, he felt a certain admiration for your work. He was known for his clumsiness when it came to motor skills, so conceiving the idea of being able to do that was something extremely strange for him.

Suddenly, you took out your phone to show him some other pieces you had made: sweaters, blouses, scarves, mittens, hats, dresses…

“Have you ever considered selling your work? They’re beautiful.”

“Oh, no. It’s too personal, you know? That’s why I only knit for myself, my family, and friends.”

“Well, you’re very skilled, to be honest. If you made custom pieces, I’d definitely buy one.”

“What do you like most?” you asked excitedly, moving closer to him “Sweaters? Vests? A scarf, maybe?”

“No! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was just an idea. Don’t worry about it,” he murmured immediately, trying to dismiss the thought from your mind.

However, you were already plotting a plan. You knew from your aunt that his birthday was coming soon, and you thought: what could be better than giving him something?

Although you pretended to let the matter pass, you continued seriously considering what would be the most suitable gift to knit for your friend. Because you were friends, right? You hoped so.

You both continued talking about trivialities after that, and you continued with your work as the conversation flowed. You clearly knew he couldn’t stay with you all afternoon, so when he told you he had to leave to fulfill other obligations, you thanked him for the time he had given you.

From that day on, you kept mulling over the idea of what could be the ideal gift for your aunt’s tenant. For several days, you tried to come up with a pattern, something good enough that would match his personality until you finally hit upon it. You were going to make him a collection of gifts, in fact, simply for the excitement of having someone admire your work so much. Besides, he had suggested it, and of course, you were going to stick to your rule: you only knitted for yourself, family, and friends.

Spencer went weeks without seeing you. He felt somewhat worried about your absence but assumed you were busy with your own life, not daring to ask your landlord about your whereabouts. Sometimes he saw the light in your room late at night and wondered what you might be doing, but he would never commit the imprudence of knocking on your door to look for you. That would be inappropriate because, while you weren’t a child or anything, he was a couple of years older than you, and the idea of someone getting the wrong impression worried him greatly.

He couldn’t see you on his birthday, and he didn’t expect you to know (he hadn’t told anyone in the building, as far as he remembered), but he thought it would have been nice to have your company.

It wasn’t until a week later that Spencer had a clue about you when a note with something he recognized as your handwriting slid under his door.

Come to the living room :)

He was confused by the invitation, which was very unconventional, so he prepared to go where you were asking him. Once there, he was surprised to find you with a huge smile, a piece of cake with a lit candle, and a large box on the coffee table.

“Surprise!”

“How do you know?” he asked, slightly confused but also touched by the show of affection.

“I know it was last week, but your gift wasn’t ready yet, and you weren’t here for your cases, and… well, you know. It’s late, but I hope you like it. Come on! Come, sit down.”

You offered him the plate with the piece of dessert, and he happily blew out the small candle burning on it. After applauding that, you patted the box in front of him and brought it closer.

“Did you buy me a gift?” he asked kindly as he sat down next to you.

The box was nothing more than a cardboard box, with no decoration or flashy papers. It was just a plain, brown, large box.

“Open it and find out.”

You looked anxious for him to see the contents, and he had no heart to refuse your excitement. When he opened it, however, he was surprised by something greater than he expected.

Inside were only knitted items: some strange-colored squares (which he would ask you about) and underneath what seemed to be a beautiful brown cardigan with a beige trim and another shade of brown. When he took it out, he was completely moved by the beauty of the garment and smiled widely when he felt the softness of the yarn.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

“I also made you some covers for your books, or your planner, or any notebook you want,” you exclaimed excitedly. Oh, so that’s what the squares were for “Try it on! Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he finally said, genuinely excited. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I told you, I only knit for people I care about.”

Spencer felt extremely honored by the distinction, and for a second, he also felt embarrassed. He didn’t know you considered him a friend at that level and wished he had something to give you too, even though it was his birthday.

He complied with your request and put the piece over his plaid shirt. It fit perfectly, was quite warm, and matched him very well. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say, stunned by your attention toward him and your personal gift. You had spent weeks knitting that just for him.

“And there’s one more thing,” you pointed out with a smile, and he peered inside.

It was true; there was a pair of socks. But they weren’t ordinary socks; they were knitted in the same way and had a particularity that made him burst into laughter.

“They’re mismatched!”

“I know you wear them like that. So I thought you’d like them,” you murmured, smiling.

You looked so kind and lovely that Spencer couldn’t help but want to hug you, feeling grateful for what you had just gifted him.

“Let me pay you for your work.”

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, sounding offended. “It’s a gift, Spencer. Gifts aren’t for sale. Happy late birthday!”

He didn’t expect something like that from you, and just for that, he felt even happier. Throughout the winter season, he made sure to wear your cardigan as much as he could, proud to recount that you had knitted it every time someone complimented the design.

At some point during the winter, he realized that, both literally and figuratively, you had brought unparalleled warmth to his life. First with that cardigan, and of course, then with your friendship.

[death-in-a-handbasket]

Could you maybe write some nsfw headcannons for Andrew my beloved

andrew is a curious character in terms of sex and fuckability, on ao3 he ranks in 5th place out of idv characters with E rated x reader fics, granted, idv x reader is not a huge race to win in, it's a very very sparse category but making the list anyways is still curious, people want to fuck that churchboy bad

my thoughts on him are a little less risqué I fear. he has the set up viability for all sorts of inappropriate religious tags, (incorrect use of a confessional would be a great one in this field, it couples well with the catholic guilt and body worship) as well as a fair contender for much more morbid tags in the field of necro. frankly though, for as much as I am a pervert and a great enjoyer of white boys who kill, andrew reads to me as a man much too preoccupied for the notion of sex

he's got his self worth to ponder and bodies to exhume, he seems like he dedicates more time to brewing animosity towards the world that hates him and trying to plot how to get his corpse quota filled than he would ever dedicate time to jacking off, so when I say this guy is an ultra virgin, I MEAN this guy is an ultra virgin. this is not to say he's naive, no no I will not allow this man to get tossed into the tar pit of innocent baby, he's certainly aware of things but would rather not make eye contact with said things that could potentially sully his soul with sin--or worse--distract him from his purpose. but let's give this universe a spin and see if we can make him fuck, what does it take to get there?

he's pretty null and void when it comes to social skills too as he is incredibly stiff and offputting and holds at least a grain of suspicion and paranoia towards everyone,, so trying to make the claim that he even has passable flirting skills is generous, if not an outright lie

what I'm saying is, you're going to have to make all the moves, because he's doing #noneofthem 🎉 additionally, expect to be turned down a lot too, because once again this churchboy is not engaging in sin and he must stay focused! so you will end up flustering him a lot, maybe even to the point of him getting a little irritated and angry (though he tries to bite it back), after all, the audacity to think someone could sway a man like him into temptation?! scandalous truly

your two options from here are either to slowly (and I MEAN slowly) but surely form an emotional bond with him over several years until he allows you to get saucy with him (because ooooh closeness and intimacy tastes so good when you're deeply in love) OR, you keep harloting towards him until this running bit isn't a bit anymore and he starts becoming haunted by the prospect of getting laid. like shaking in bed awake at night because his brain is haunting him. he finally gets the time and nerve to jack off and feels gross for weeks after because of all that damn sin. both routes ultimately require dedication though cause he's not exactly an easy man to seduce and besides the obvious religious aspect, I think he's a bit scared to fuck and also thinks he's undeserving of the fuck too (after all, why on earth are you attracted to him?? he thinks he's but a meager man of dirt value and unattractive to boot, someone wanting to hit sounds as absurd and impossible to him as him being crowned god. bro's self esteem is in the TRENCHES)

I digress, all this preamble, but the real meat of how this man fucks? he's doing it scared style, he's doing it anxious cornered animal style, he's doing it "oh jesus take the wheel I'm going to hell" style. this man's shame, discomfort with his own body, and lack of experience make him nigh deer in headlights during sex, again, you will in fact have to be making all the moves because he's #doingnoneofthem 🙌 I wouldn't quite classify him as a sub because I don't think he truly yearns to submit to someone, rather I think you have to sort of dom him by default because he doesn't know what he's doing and he might go catatonic if you make him try, I don't think even HE knows how he made it this far. regardless if it's you taking the wheel though or him attempting to lightly take charge after getting some experience in, two things will remain for him: the tendency to hyperventilate because the experience is a rush and he's feeling All Too Much All At Once, and being kind of needy. this man has never had an ounce of loving human touch so once he's over the ridge of panic it kind of devolves into not wanting to let you go, he's STARVED of that closeness

all that said, I don't think he lasts very long and he certainly doesn't fuck hard either, very tentative and shaky and slow. I think giving or receiving head is a bit much for him so I'd imagine he'd object to such things, hand stuff is okay though 👍 he's not really kinky or super into powerplay, I don't imagine he has any outlandish fetishes either. best case scenario in terms of squeezing a little freaky out of him is some light worship stuff, but that really depends heavily on whether you pass his judgement as someone to worship, for an example I think if you took the harlot route this would not apply, BUT harlot route does give you exclusive access to defiling the holy by attempting seduction in the church or graveyard (unlikely to come to fruition though he really has a hard limit on wanting to at least fuck in his own bed)

he's really one of those guys that if you want to fuck him you have to appreciate him for his stiff demeanor and aghast cross clutching at the notion of being diverted from his purpose for the sake of sin, and you must want him without expecting something greater and kinkier. this man is ultimately pretty vanilla I think, more than anything he probably just wants more domestic stuff as an expression of love and his libido isn't really in his life as a pressing thing he craves to the point of needing required satiation, but one can always dream of greener blasphemous pastures 🤌

[fairuzfan]

hello!! I don't know if this is appropriate (pls do not feel obligated to answer) but i was wondering what were ur thoughts on the israeli grass-roots movement Standing Together. I first found out abt them through a tumblr post that shared this substack article (https://theconnector.substack.com/p/if-its-not-helping-then-shut-the). the article immediately put an extremely bad taste in my mouth towards the movement and its founders, but i dont know if i'm being overly-critical of them.

Hey thanks for sending this in. No worries, it's totally ok. I was actually debating whether or not to publish this, mostly because I was afraid this would distract from Gaza, but I decided that it's imperative to stop normalizers from squeezing their way into the movement. Remember, the demands of the Palestinian people begin and end with liberation. Everything else is irrelevant and pointless to the cause.

So first off — I don't think you're being overly-critical of them at all. The first red flag of both this article and the group themselves is that they often exchange "Palestinian" with "Arab" and "Israeli" with "Jewish." That right off the bat shows me they have no respect for Palestinians and see Jewish people and Palestinians as mutually exclusive categories. I've spoken on this blog before about how racist it is to assume no Palestinian is Jewish and vice versa and this group really illustrates the forced division they imagine within their own goals and wording.

The article itself is quite anti-Palestinian in its erasure — it talks about avoiding words like "genocide," and "apartheid," and "ethnic cleansing" because "they are serious people trying to actually get something done." I really don't understand why not using those words makes you a serious person. If anything, it erases a description of how to define what it happening to Palestinians.

The whole redefinition of "peace" in this article and group is just calmness. These people are not advocating for peace in which families are reunited and land is given back — they are advocating for a muted version of the status quo of the current political system, just with less obviously fanatical governments. Peace cannot be attained when the people directly affected cannot have a say in defining it. They won't even say the word "apartheid." It's not some scholarly word with no meaning — it has actual consequences and effects on people (click). Palestinians are tried in military court. Their movement is monitored and restricted. It means that there are different legal systems for different people (click)! If you reject that this exists, then you're not interested in making the lives of Palestinians better — you're only interested in making your own life more comfortable.

As soon as you remove our ability to say words like "genocide" and "apartheid", you remove our ability to determine what happens specifically to Palestinians based on racism. By only saying "Palestinians are getting killed" an Israeli can come in and say "well so am I, by Hamas! Let's work together to end the killing" when it ignores that this is a systematic effort to completely wipe out all trace of Palestinians from the world.

It's like saying, "Don't say you have arthritis, say your joints hurt. And well, that happens to everyone, so let's just find a way to stop all our joints from hurting!" Then you work with people who fundamentally don't understand your pain and symptoms, oversimplifying your situation to the point of malicious universality. Sure, everyone's joints hurt, but my joints are hurting because my immune system is attacking them, not because of old age. You can't help my arthritis the same way you can wear a heat/cold patch to sooth your joints — there are other problems you're ignoring that all work together to cause me systematic pain and might cause bigger problems in the future if left untreated properly.

Similar symptoms don't mean similar causes and ignoring that is fundamentally ignoring the root issue and attempting to trivialize Palestinian's suffering. As soon as you take away the words to describe our situation, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Now, basically, the... weirdest part of the article is this excerpt:

People like him in Israel are very aware of how the left here is talking about them, and it’s not helping. “You can call me a colonizer or a settler,” he declared, “but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are the Palestinians.” When people chant, “Palestine will be free,” he said, “we Israelis hear, ‘without you.’ In the same way that a lot of Palestinians hear the ministers in Bibi’s government speak and think they want to do the same thing to them.” The problem as they both see it is that we are caught between two polar opposites. “Hamas believes in Greater Palestine,” Green said. “And on the other side we have people who believe in the idea of Greater Israel.” Indeed, that concept is in the charter of Netanyahu’s Likud Party. “Both sides have very problematic governing bodies,” he added. And the status quo of maintaining the occupation and managing the conflict has been exploded now.

Well, first off, Hamas is not the only one who believes in "Greater Palestine." Palestinians around the globe have been fighting for that since 1948. Second off, it's quite odd that you would center yourself in the wake of the ongoing slaughter of 10,000 people, with no end in sight. Right now, I would assume you'd be advocating for an end to the mass killings first and foremost, but you seem to be more worried about your right to stolen land.

Third, this completely erases the violence done to Palestinians the past 75+ years in favor for a "peace" that will only allow citizens of Israel comfort in their lives. Sure Palestinian citizens of Israel might have more comfortable lives, maybe (although I doubt it). But what about Gaza, which has been ravaged by Israel? What about the people in the Occupied Territories, whose economy depends on Israel, which controls it? What about the millions of refugees around the world who can't so much as see the place where they grew up because they've been exiled? The colonization of Palestine by Israel is not so old — there are people STILL ALIVE who participated in the massacres of Palestinians in 1948 and 1967 and walk around without facing any real consequences for that. My great-grandmother had seen both and she only passed away a couple of years ago. Where is the "peace" for her? Where is the "peace" for millions like her who still dream of going back to their childhood home?

This group AND the article tries to cloud your view into illustrating two opposing groups with equal power. They aren't. Palestinians, unfortunately, endure systematic oppression both within Gaza and throughout Palestine. Each and every time they try to resist peacefully, they've been shot, abducted, or imprisoned. The Great March of Return is one such example. BDS is also an example, yet that has constantly been outlawed by American governments. There have been a plethora of Palestinian artists, writers, and filmmakers who have been silenced or killed for advocating for a Free Palestine. Most recently, this included Heba Abu-Nada who was an award winning poet and writer who was martyred on October 20th after getting shelled by an Israeli missile. Ghassan Kanafani also was assassinated last century. The list goes on. Palestinians have no hope of "changing the system from within" because that internal change will always depend on the mercy of the Israelis that pretend to ally themselves with the Palestinians. Someone in Gaza cannot leave their refugee camp and go back to their ancestral home because no one in this group is advocating for that — and remember, the right of return is an essential part of the demands of the Palestinian people and we cannot ignore that for a forced "peace" that favors calmness over actual justice.

Now as we examine the group themselves, here is their mission statement/goal:

Standing Together is a progressive grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and for peace, equality, and social justice. We know that the majority have far more in common than that which sets us apart and only a tiny minority benefits from the status quo. The future that we want-peace and independence for Israelis and Palestinians, full equality for everyone in this land, and true social, economic, and environmental justice — is possible. To achieve this future, we must stand together as a united front: Jewish and Palestinian, secular and religious, Mizrahi and Ashkenazi, rural and urban, and people of all genders and sexual orientations. As the largest Jewish-Arab grassroots movement in Israel, we are committed to creating an alternative to our existing reality and building the political strength to make this transformation possible.

Yet again, they are separating "Palestinian" and "Jewish," reinforcing this dichotomy that's so harmful. AND they're interchanging "Palestinian" and "Arab," which erases the diversity within Palestinian society. A group that makes the distinction between "Palestinian" and "Jewish" shows that they are not interested in the restitution of Palestinians but rather solidifying their own position within society by emphasizing a false dichotomy between "Palestinians" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap.

They mention "true justice" but "true justice" doesn't exist if there are no reparations towards the people who have been exiled and displaced, murdered, and tortured the past 75+ years. Justice is not an abstract concept — it is adhering to the demands of the people most impacted by systematic oppression, which is the Palestinians.

Looking at their leadership, there are only a couple of Palestinians with the vast majority of them being non-Palestinian. Sorry, but I'm wholly uninterested in "peace" and "equality" movements that are not made up of majority Palestinians. It's only common sense that you would expect such a movement to be led by Palestinians themselves — but this group seems to use Sally Abed as a token Palestinian who furthers their narrative of wanting "peace" in Israeli society. And even looking at their action items, you can see they make a point about emphasizing safety for the *Israeli* citizens above all else, stating that their far right government does nothing to serve the citizens of Israel. They claim it will also bring safety for Gazans, but how? You can advocate for a change in the government, yes, but if the people in Gaza are subject to getting their rights taken away based on the whims of whoever happens to be in power then no amount of "internal" activism in Israeli society will help them. They will always be at the mercy of the people who have a vested interest in erasing the people of Gaza and the West Bank so that they may take over their land.

Please remember, the civil rights movement of the 60s and the BLM Movement of this century were led by and FOR Black people of the United States because they were the ones making the demands for a change in their circumstances. Because at the end of the day, the people who are the most oppressed deserve the right to decide how their future appears and should not be dictated by the oppressor in any way.

This group tries to make a separation between the "Israeli people" and the "Israeli government." Right away, I have to laugh. They act as if the colonization of Palestine is too old for anyone to remember its origins — no. I had family living in Palestine as recently as '67. Maybe *this* generation didn't choose to settle in Palestine, but the previous generation did. And the generations before that. Before 1948, Israel didn't even exist. Hell, before a couple hundred years ago, BORDERS didn't exist. Not to mention, mandatory conscription means that most civilians will have been directly part of the suppressing forces, making them liable for the material effects of colonization. Why are people so resistant to the idea of undoing colonialism and its effects? I cannot think of any other reason than because they have a vested interest in keeping those borders up, in emphasizing nationality because they're one of the groups of people that is benefited from the establishment of a "Jewish State."

So in that, unless you call for an end to the idea of the "Jewish State" in Palestine, then I cannot think of you as a sincere advocate for Palestinian rights — this group especially plays at normalization of a muted version of the status quo rather than actual justice and reparations. The "Israeli advocates" within this group will benefit first and foremost in their own activism — therefore it's hard for me to view them in a positive light.

All activism for Palestinians should center around giving Palestinians reparations, as well as giving reparations to all indigenous victims of colonization. I think this group only tries to muddy the waters to make people forget what they're fighting for. I honestly do not understand why liberation scares you, if it means that no nation-state will have complete and total power over you and your family.

"Free Palestine" is an anti-colonial movement. Such a thing is possible — but you have to try to make it possible. Those against the unending liberation of all people are one of those who have the most to benefit from the continuation of colonization.

Right now, your main concern should be the people of Gaza and the people of the West Bank, and ensuring their safety and longevity in the face on continued erasure. "Peace" is all well and good but who exactly gets to define that? Who gets to benefit most from it? Unless you can unequivocally answer "ALL Palestinians," then you're not an ally — you're only interested in helping yourselves.

Remember — the fact that we even had to fight for our rights is itself an injustice. At the very least, ask the people who are most affected what they want before you listen to Israelis who have a vested interest in keeping the state of Israel alive.

[totaly-obsessed]

Mess of a Mind

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Alexia's life is much more chaotic with you and your ADHD - but she wouldn't change it for a thing

-> Based on my daily struggles in life

-> reader has ADHD

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The moment Alexia received a text from you that read ‘I’m gonna clean’ – she already knew that she was coming home to a bigger mess than before.

Your ADHD makes cleaning things much more complicated than they need to be. But you were sick of being useless in the house. Because with Ale being at training most days and you still in university you were definitely the one in the relationship with more time on their hands. And while your girlfriend definitely didn’t expect you to do everything in the house, helping out with some chores would be nice.

But there it is.

The dreaded word ‘chores’. As soon as something fell under the category, you were all of a sudden unable to do that.

Alexia had asked you to put the trash outside one morning before leaving for training – which you were going to do anyway. But now, that it was your chore? No chance. The blonde came home to no trash outside, but a mess on the inside.

But you didn’t do nothing. In fact – you were quite productive. All of the possible trashcans that were placed around your house were now labeled their respective contents in hand-placed crafting diamonds. Nala lying by your side, nose stuck into the front pocket of your (Alexia’s) Hoodie.

The moment you saw fuzzy socks standing in front of you, was when you realized that you were supposed to take the trash outside. You hadn’t even heard her come in. Ale however wasn’t mad at you, she could see that you had vacuumed the entire house, as well as unloaded the dishwasher. As always you had left the last item on top of the kitchen aisle when your brain was already finished with the task, when in actuality there was still something left.

“Hola bebe. What are you doing?”

It was moments like these that you realized how much of a saint your girlfriend really was. Mapi, like the curious cat she was, peeked at her friend’s phone – wondering what she had seen that had her face all scrunched up. “What did your Roomba text you now – huh?”

Yeah. Roomba.

That’s what your girlfriend’s teammates called you after Lucy had compared you to one. Not because you were Ale’s live-in maid, but because her captain had once come home after a meeting, to a mess of a living room. Loads of different craft projects everywhere. And after following the trail of abandoned projects and broken dreams, she saw you. Stuck in the corner – panicking like a Roomba who can’t get back to its loading station. Lucy and Keira had both been there when Ale found you. That is how your nickname was born.

“She said that she was going to clean up.” Alexia tried to ignore her best friend laughing at your plans – knowing what happened the last time. But upon arriving at your shared house – you were nowhere to be found.

As expected there was chaos everywhere.

The vacuum was lying on the ground, directly next to the coffee table – at least it wasn’t running. Or rather what was left of the said table – two legs were missing, both on the same side, so now it was lopsided, and a once-filled coffee cup was lying on the rug, its filling now spilled on the carpet. The mug must have slid down the table, once it missed its legs.

Approximately every bowl that your kitchen holds placed on the counters, is filled with various things. The footballer recognized the ingredients to your favorite cake. The bathroom mirror was still covered in cleaning spray – apparently, you forgot to wipe it off.

She had already changed at taken a seat on the couch when she heard the front door open and your muttering once you entered. “Hola Ale!”

“Hola mi amor.”

“Oh god! What happened here?” The blonde throned on her usual corner of the couch in the midst of the chaos, Nala in her lap – both of them looking at you with curious eyes, wondering what you would do. “I don’t know what happened – it looked like this when I came home.”

Both of you knew that it could not have been Nala, the tiny dog did not have thumbs to turn on the vacuum.

Once the stain caught your eye – you remembered everything. “Oh right! I was vacuuming and then I hit the coffee table, but it wobbled so it was broken, so I had to fix it! Then the mug slid down the table, it spilled all over the carpet! So I went to the kitchen to grab paper Towles!”

This was better than any TV show Alexia could have watched – she was not mad. “And the cake in the kitchen?”

“Oh! You are right!” You were now following your own mess as if you were a detective discovering a crime scene. “I went to grab the paper towels to blot the stain – then I remembered that I wanted to make a cake – but I spilled milk. So, I went to grab toilet paper to clean up.”

Alexia, Nala and you were now standing in the bathroom, a foamy mirror laughing at you. “Right, and then I sprayed the mirrors, but I had no towels to wipe it off, so I went to the store!”

Now you had solved the crime – your main suspect? Yourself.

Alexia could not help but laugh at your satisfied facial expression once you came to your conclusion. After packing away your shopping you realize that you had gotten everything aside from why you had gone in the first place. “Why did I want paper towels again?”

Your girlfriend did not answer you. She was leaning against the fridge, muscular arms crossed in front of her and she just stared at you. A soft smile on her lips. “Ale?”

After planting a soft kiss on your forehead, she led you to the living room. “The stain, bebita.”

“Oh! You are right!” Without hesitating you dropped to your knees in front of the still-wet stain. No wonder there, but before Alexia could react, you had pulled your shirt off and thrown it on the coffee – blotting the stain.

The blonde pulled you up by your elbows “Oh baby. Could’ve used a towel.” You looked like a bratty kid, being held up by your girlfriend while you tried to get the stain away. “Oh right! We do not have paper towels; I will go and get some!”

The Barcelona player set you down on the couch as gently as she could “No mi Corazón. You already went out.” She was gentle and sweet and ever so patient as she helped you tidy your mess.

It was late when you finished, your brain now tired from running at 180km/h the entire day – so Alexia decided to order takeout. It took her twenty minutes to figure out what you wanted to choose from her suggestions because your very low attention span sprang from the TV to Nala, to your book, and then to the still very-much-there stain.

Ale had to take you to your shared bedroom, sit you on the bed, and kneel in front of you – one hand holding both of yours in front of your chest, the other holding your face so that you could not avoid her eyes.

But finally, you had settled on Pasta. She even figured out which one you wanted.

Once it arrived both of you carried the things you needed from the now clean kitchen to the couch, sitting down ready to eat.

Or at least that was the plan.

While Ale already started eating, you realized, that you missed something. “Oh, I need a freakin’ fork.” And with that you had stood up again, wandering to the kitchen and while you came back with a fork, you just stood in front of the couch.

Ale watched closely as your eyes drifted off. “I need to get my sauce.” And *poof* you were gone again.

You returned with said sauce and sat down again. Ale already saw what was coming, holding onto your plate that wobbled when you stood up with force, throwing your hands up in the sky. “Freaking fork!”

Fork in one hand, water in the other, you came back. Before setting both items down on the table, you looked at your girlfriend – “Would you like some water as well baby?” The older woman nodded, she appreciated that you thought of her while your brain was driving you insane. “That would be nice, thank you corazón.” 

She felt bad seeing you walk away with both water and your fork in hand, but she didn’t want to stop you, in fear that you would think that you were stupid, not being able to get everything you needed. So, she let you be.

Alexia even waited patiently as you sang in the kitchen for five minutes, before coming back with two water glasses, handing her the one you had already taken a sip out of. “Did you take my fork?”

“No baby. I think you left it in the kitchen.”

“No, I didn’t, I put my fork here.” Instead of showing her a specific place, you just plainly pointed to the entire table. But there was no second fork – so you went back again returning victoriously with a fork.

A deep sigh left your body after finally sitting down next to your girlfriend again. “What happened to your water?”

After bringing it up, Alexia felt bad. Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers massaging your temple where an annoying headache would surely be forming.

“I left it.”

Now you had everything. Food, fork, water, your girlfriend, Nala, and your favorite TV show.

You were incredibly hungry by now but after taking a bite, you let your fork fall into your pasta. “My food is cold now.” Without saying anything, Ale stood up and heated it back up for you.

Later that night you were finally lying in bed, Alexia’s hand rubbing your back, cooing in your ear. “Today was hard for you huh, bebita?” Soft kisses were littered all over your face and neck, the blonde smiling after being able to get a smile out of you.

“Tomorrow will be better.” While your ADHD could be frustrating, Alexia would never be angry at you for doing certain things or not doing them – she was just so happy to have you.

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant" p2

people seemed to like the first post so have a little more :)

might put it on ao3 later or something

-----------------------

The language barrier is a problem, Ulchtar finally decides once they touch down, and his new friend seems to agree.

He’d hit a snag in trying to describe where to go when he realized the Giant had been asleep for longer than English had existed as a language. Thankfully, gestures seemed to be more-or-less universal, so he was able to get across the idea of where to go eventually. They’re currently nestled in a cave somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains. It’s a remote place, especially after the alien attacks in the area a few years back. But he knows that this isn’t a permanent solution.

They need to learn to communicate before the inability to do so gets them both killed.

Which is why they’re now taking turns scratching out a massive diagram on the cave floor with sticks…Well, a stick and a small tree. They’d been trading words back and forth for a good two hours now. As best as he could tell, the Giant’s language was actually quite simple—consisting mainly of nouns, verbs, descriptors, and modifiers to those two things. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it was versatile enough.

They’d started with things that were easily drawn-out or mimed: things like “person,” “me,” “you.” There was sort of a pronoun system, and the Giant…seemed to be a “he,” or an equivalent. Then they’d tried to build from there—he’d figured out some of the verbs, and how to phrase things as a question, and from there the two of them had hit it off. Now he was trying to get the guy up to speed, because everything would be a whole lot easier if they knew what was going on.

“So…[me-category-] human.” He points to the crude little figure of a human he’s drawn, and the Giant nods along.

How to explain the war…? “Humans [-planet-creation-positive-] Earth.” He points to the rough map of the world they’ve drawn out, then to the Giant’s rather detailed drawing of a kaiju. “[Planet-creation-negative-] Earth.”

They lean down a little closer to the drawing. “Quintesson,” he says with what sounds like outright distaste. Ulchtar’s a little taken aback by that.

“[Question.] Quintesson [-them. Name?]”

“[Name-positive.] Quintessons [negative-negative-negative.]” They confirm. Okay, triple negatives, so this guy hated the damned things just as much as anyone else. Maybe it wasn’t just Earth under siege…?

“Quintessons [motion-inside] Earth…[creation-negative] humans.” He’s painfully aware of his limited vocabulary, hoping it’s enough to get the point across. The Giant seems to pick up on the intent, tensing up just a little.

He continues. “Humans…[Eyes-positive-you. Humans-creation-negative, desire-negative.] So... [negative-brain-do-positive-you. Creations-do-similar.]” We found you. We didn’t want to die. We studied you. Tried to make things like you.

The Giant whirls towards him at that, picking him up to hold him at eye level. The grip is just tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel like a threat. “[You…complete-negative-me?]”

Ulchtar waves his hands in front of his face frantically, mortified. Oh, he’s really fucked up this time. He didn’t realize the Giant remembered getting taken apart like that. “[M-me-do-negative! Complete-positive-repeat!]” He sputtered. I put you back together!

It wasn’t technically a lie. He hadn’t exactly done it out of the kindness of his heart, but it wasn’t a lie.

The glare softens just a bit, the grip relaxing. He's not in immediate risk of death anymore.

They keep talking for a few hours, until it gets too dark to really see what he's doing anymore.

He hmms, trying to think of the right words…

“Uh…” He points up at the sliver of sky above them. “[Sky. Light-negative. Me-vision-negative.]”

“[…Recharge-you? Eyes-positive-me.]” He was offering to keep watch while Ulchtar slept, he mentally translated.

He nodded, fumbling mentally to figure out how to respond to that. “[…Gratitude-positive.]”

Then, another thought occurred to him. “[You. Name. Question?]”

The Giant paused for a second at that, wings drooping just a little bit. “[…name-knowledge-negative. Memory-negative-negative.]”

…oh.

Ulchtar can’t help but feel a little bad for asking now. He tries to shift the topic a bit, pointing to himself. “[Me. Name.] Ulchtar.”

That gets a tilt of the head. “[You. Name. Sound-similar…Star-sound-positive-positive-pitch-positive?]” In this language, the name and the phrase do sound kind of alike, actually. He laughs at that.  

“Star…scream? [Desire-name. Name-sound-positive-positive-positive.]” He adds three positives for emphasis, because it does sound way more badass than “Ulchtar.”

The ground shakes just slightly, and he realizes the Giant is laughing.

Don't get too attached, he reminds himself. They could betray you any second. He's just as dangerous as these Quintessons if he wants to be.

“Oh, knock it off…” He curls up on a relatively comfy-looking patch of cave moss, bundling himself up in some extra clothes in lieu of anything warmer. The cave’s warmer than outside, but still a bit chilly even with the ambient heat from the Giant’s engines heating it up.

It doesn’t stop him from eventually slipping into sleep.

-----------------------

The mech with no name shifts his weight just a little, trying to get comfortable in his hiding spot among the mountains. It’s not much—just a little nook in the rocks where it’s tough to spot him—but it’s better than being out in the open, as badly as he wants to stretch out his wings and fly again.

He doesn’t want to put the human—Starscream—Ulchtar—in danger.

Ulchtar’s the only companion he has in this world right now, after all.

So he’s probably going to stick with him for a bit—in no small part because he really doesn’t know where else he’d go. Most of his memory is long since corrupted, throwing him all kinds of errors whenever he tries to think back to before.

He knows, in broad strokes, what he is. He knows he’s a mechanical lifeform. He knows he’s a shapeshifter of some sort. He knows he can fly, and is probably designed to explore space. He knows what the parts inside of him are—what a spark is and that he needs to drink energon to survive. He knows the Quintessons want him dead.

But he doesn’t know who he is. His name. Where he came from. What his own species is called…

Does he have a species?

This whole world was filled with organic life, and nothing else—it was clear that the other machines he’d seen in that laboratory weren’t alive, but rather artificial constructs. They resembled him, but only superficially. He can’t feel their sparks, let alone any sort of EM field—something even the organics of this world have, albeit very faint ones.

Which leaves him with a very frightening question.

Am I alone?

His internal clock is telling him he’s been on this planet for six million years, trapped in stasis.

Surely someone must’ve looked for him, right? One of his kind, maybe? Surely six million years would’ve been long enough for a search party to find him.

If nobody had ever come looking for him, then…then either there was nobody left to send, or he’d mattered so little that nobody had ever bothered to remember him.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: being alone, or being nobody.

Something wet drips onto his face.

Terrible time for rain, he thinks to himself.

But when he looks up, there’s not a cloud in the sky.

How odd…

He brushes it away, trying not to think about the question hanging over his head.

The night after that is largely uneventful, up until he notices a strange blue-green light on the horizon.

He pokes his head through the entrance. Was dawn supposed to come this early? Was it usually that color?

-----------------------

When he’s exhausted, Ulchtar is a pretty heavy sleeper.

That said, the fact that the Giant doesn’t wake him up when he moves away is still damned impressive. No, he only wakes up when it starts getting cold again. Still groggy, it takes him a few seconds to realize his vanished from his spot—something that makes him snap awake instantly in a panic.

He looked up towards the surface. Had he been abandoned? Was the Giant going back to—

Oh.

He sees his companion’s winged silhouette just beyond the mouth of the cave, illuminated in blue and green and violet.

He’s staring at something.

Ulchtar creeps closer, and quickly understands why. There’s an aurora snaking across the sky in full force above the mountains, and the Giant watches in wonder.

His wings twitch when Ulchtar draws near, as if sensing him somehow. “Starscream [recharge-positive?]” He asks. It seems like the nickname is sticking.

“[Recharge-positive],” he agrees. It’s another half-truth; he was sleeping fine until he got cold.

The Giant points up at the aurora, looking very confused. “[Occurrence. Name. Question?]”

“Aurora borealis.”

“[Common-positive? Threat-positive? Question?]”

“[Common-negative. Threat-negative.]” Ulchtar assures him.

He seems to relax a bit at that. “[Eye-similar…sky-heat-positive-light-positive.]”

“Yeah, kinda…” He really does not have the vocabulary to explain how the hell an aurora works. "The sky set itself on fire" is as good an explanation as any.

They nod along. “[Vision…positive-positive-positive.]”

That’s a lot of words to say “it’s pretty,” Ulchtar thinks to himself with a little smile, but jolts when his friend’s wings suddenly flatten against his back, an expression of…something like recognition on his face.

“[Name. Me. Memory-negative-now-positive. Sky-heat-positive-light-positive!]” He puts his hands together and looks to Ulchtar almost expectantly, as if he wants him to try translating this name too.

"...Skyfire," he decides after a few seconds.

The look "Skyfire" gives him at that...He's trying his best not to get attached, to do his best impression of a chessmaster moving his pawns around, but by God, if push came to shove he would kill for that smile.

[enden-k]

The new info about the things this fear did to everyone at the cult? OUCH. AND EW. HANDS OFF. Tentacles? Tentacles off

First of all something tells me that poor Yx's body might have been desecrated in front of Saran (really hope not-) or at the very least Saran was forced to look (probably by the entity. Kinda like 'look what happened just bc someone didnt fulfill their duties correctly. Daddy shouldnt have sheltered you so much') and really take in what had happened

Or maybe he wasnt forced by the entity but something still did happen bc it is mentioned he was made to look. Had no choice. Nightmares about it

Also, the part that really stumps me is how did Saran go from 'probably standard manifestation of a murder victim' into mutating enough to reach category of 'greater evil'? Something is odd here

The while thing with purification and stuff- Saran probably had some energy/fear stuff inside if he had done his first exorcism by then bc i highly doubt the entity purified him without the whole offering thing and i doubt even more Yx let him offer his body. So maybe that mutated him somewhat but, enough to fuck up big time stuff?

Also, in all this, is the fake god even still alive? Is it still messing stuff and people up in what remains of the cult? Trying to latch onto a new bloodline?

Something tells me its no longer in play. Something tells me Saran might have gotten (or tried) to get rid of it (or fuck forbid maybe consume it and thats why he's so similar). Not quite on topic but it will be VERY funny if he did indeed eat it or a part of it in the context of the doodles of him eating the octopus little ball thingie (or was it just a tentacle? Cant remember the doodle)

Or maybe he's working with it. This one is least likely. Specially in light of what happened to Yx

I make myself sad just thinking about this all. Poor Yx! He did all he could but in the end Azai's greed-

New thought but Entity wanting to break Yx and fucking up his body and cursing it bc he was its fav and it wanted to break him and Azai fucking up Saran with the intention of being able to keep him to break him? Too many parallels. Maybe this is why Yx knows so well what his intentions are on sight in the canon Universe, and kills him before he can try

Azai your other blog self can NEVER stop me from hating. Ever. I will remain a hater this is both a warning and a threat

-🦜too many thoughts atm. Still sorting through

yeaaaa lots of questionable things. but it really thrived off the fear and discomfort it induced in its servants

anw alright, im gonna reveal some more in this ask since you already got pretty close anyway (and i revealed tons of stuff anw so akjscbk)

the act of desecration wasnt done in front of saran but the entity did show saran the damage to cause distress and generate more negative energy to feed off, mocking him for his attempts to undo the damage, mocking his own death, mocking and disrespecting yuxuan and blaming saran for everything. it underestimated the power of emotions though

yuxuan was perfectly balanced and constantly unbothered, always keeping his negative energy and emotions in check. saran never really learned this and its what turned his overwhelming emotions, his fear and grief and horror and erverything into pure violence and hatred, mutated it. the entity basically meant to fatten his negative energy up so it can devour him and become even more powerful but all it did was create a vengeful creature losing control on a destructive scale, too big to gobble up. saran lit became smth similar to it but the more powerful one between them won

the entity is no longer alive. its bc saran devoured it. he became one with it, making it a part of himself and not it making him a part of itself. he inherited traits and appearances, like the lust to devour other fears and energies and his soul-snatching cursed eyes. sometimes his viciousness is a shadow of the entities personality. but other than that saran is fully conscious and himself. he cant lose control in this destructive scale like he did after his death when he devoured the entity bc a certain energy within him that was consumed w the entity makes sure he keeps his calm. like a father calming his upset child

[geminipixels]

GeminiPixel's Tattoo Dump ✨

ꨄTo say thanks for 100 Followers around October 1st, I compiled a Tattoo Dump for the sims 3. Though now at the time I'm releasing this I have around 150 followers ꨄ.

ꨄ A small milestone, but a milestone worth celebrating nonetheless. As I honestly made this account as a side hobby during my first year of University. But now 6 months later, I'm a semi-new converter and have people who enjoy my sims and conversions 🥹🫶🏾.

ꨄ I'll quit yapping, and explain the download. I converted around 45 to 70 tattoos from the sims 4, and made about 10-12 of my own tattoos mixed into the bunch. I will add a link to a Pinterest board I created that has all the creators whose work I've converted(As most don't have Tumblr or inactive). All other textures for my creations I got from Google images and Pinterest. ꨄ

Credits: Pinterest, Pinterest Board

Info:

Includes 9 packages or 1 Zip file.

There's around 75+ tattoos but they are variations within a package. So there's 3 face tattoos, 3 neck tattoos, 2 leg/hip tattoos and 2 full-body tattoos.

They are all Recolorable on one channel. And the full-body tattoos are recolorable of 1.5/2 channels (Don't ask, but some tattoos recolor better than others, but creates a cool ombre effect between 2 colors✨)

All tattoos are Unisex, Disallowed for Random and Valid for Maternity (Don't get a tattoo while pregnant in real-life please🙏🏾)

Face Tattoos found in the costume makeup section

Body Tattoos are found in accessory categories (Necklaces and Socks).

Has lazy but Custom Thumbnail.

Notes:

For the full body, I attempted to make it recolorable on 2 channels. It semi-works, but the tattoo may still have the 1st channels color/overlay. Didn't come out like I envisioned, but can create a cool ombre effect.

For the full-body tattoos, I made them unisex. However, Tattoo set 1 has conversions made from a male body UV, while set 2 had conversions made from a female body UV. So set 2 may have more “feminine” tattoos and vice versa, so keep this in mind around the chest/breast regions.

Face tattoos will slightly change, base on the use of sliders around the cheekbone height, eyebrow height and cheek fullness. They will also look better with some eyebrow presets than others. I tried to place them in general areas to work with all facial features and structures, but the UV layout only has so much room.

If you care or are curious about what I made, I mixed them into the "Morenecktattoos" package and Both leg tattoo packages for added variety.

Also I will make ambition style tattoos eventually for those players who prefer them in game. Furthermore, If you want to know how to make Tattoos recolorable, just ask, and I'm willing to share or make a simple post about it💕. Also I'm open for suggestions for designs to make more custom tattoos (send them to me please✨)

Download: Folder || Merged

If you encounter any other issues or problems, please let me know. Thank you for downloading :). There's no previews this time sadly as I would exceed the photo limit for Tumblr and you'll end up downloading over 80+ photos if I added them to the zip file.

@pis3update @xto3conversionsfinds @simfluencer-network @eternalccfinds

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Fuck That!

by hyperfixationmaniac “You know, if you turn me over to the social workers, well… the chances of a kid my age findin’ a decent home are slim–” “Don’t bet on it, Robin.” “Robin?” Jason’s head whips around and he stares at Batman in horror, “Robin!?” Batman’s smile falters, and he starts explaining slowly, “Yes, you’ve proved yourself quite a lot tonight, young man. I think you’d make an excellent Ro–” “Fuck that!” ---- Jason, very aggresively, says No to being Robin. This spirals into quite the different life for everyone in the Batfamily! Words: 8955, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon (Mentioned), Bernard Dowd (mentioned), Crystal Brown (mentioned) Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd (briefly) Additional Tags: Jason Todd-centric, Civilian Jason Todd, Jason Todd swears a lot, Everybody Loves Jason Todd, Competent Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Takes Care of His Family, Scary Jason Todd, i think if jason was a civilian and used his rage in an alfred-like way, then he’d very quickly become the head of the household, this is the fic born from that headcanon, no beta we die like jason todd, except that, Jason Todd Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, like COMPLETE fix-it, to the point that the only canon events that happen are the batfam members joining, and even those are very warped to make them infinitely less tragic, Fluff, Humor, i think this is humour but im really not sure, if im being honest its more like, Crack, Jason Todd is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early, But only by a little, Stephanie Brown is not Robin, Trans Female Stephanie Brown, its not important to the story but its important to my heart, Stephanie Brown Joins the Batfamily Early, again only by a little though, Damian Wayne is Not Robin, some of them are other titles, but im not putting them in because of spoilers, just know that dick is the first and only robin, Cassandra Cain Joins the Batfamily Early, oooonly by a little, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, more like jason violently twists bruce into being a good parent like a balloon animal, Awkward Bruce Wayne, Minor Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake/Bernard Dowd, because these are MY blorbos, so i get to make them three disaster bisexuals in an idiot polycule, Self-Indulgent, PLEASE don’t interact with this if you ship the batfam!! via https://ift.tt/IBPrVYg

[fleurdeserre]

ROTTEN

Fandom: 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) Category: F/M Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Main Character/Xia Yizhou | Caleb; Xia Yizhou | Caleb/You Tags: One Shot, Angst, Self-Harm, Phantom Limb Pain, POV Third Person

Summary: What if Caleb wasn't being entirely honest in Painful Signal? What if he was experiencing phantom limb pain on a regular basis after losing his arm? (Set some time after Painful Signal)

A/N: disclaimers: - tw: self-harm - english isn’t my first language so if something seems wrong or doesn’t make sense that’s probably the reason - i am no expert in phantom limb pain, i just read an article, so like…i’m not a doctor and all my limbs are currently intact, so i am not sure what it actually feels like to experience such a thing

you can read the fic here or go to ao3 (hyperlink in the title)

Over the years, Caleb had found his ways of coping with shit the universe threw his way. Sure, they might not have been exactly healthy but to be completely honest, his own well-being was never really something he’d taken into consideration. 

She would always reprimand him about his chapped lips or nails bitten to the quick. He’d tried quitting for her sake but that never really worked. Then came the a little too hot showers he took. The skin of his back would get red and itchy, the burning would feel good, though. Distracting enough to just forget…even if just for a moment.

Forget the blank stare she’d give him. Forget all those moments he had to tell himself it would be okay, that she would come back eventually, just like she always did. She wouldn’t remember him; she’d look at him with zero recognition in her eyes but that was fine by him. As long as she came back, he’d reintroduce himself to her over and over again for all eternity if that was what it came to.

Caleb couldn’t deny the irony of the Toring Chip being implanted in his brain, mocking him, laughing in his face as if saying “Weren’t you look for a way to forget? Why are you backing off all of a sudden?”

He’d wanted to forget all the pain she’d gone through, all the ways in which he couldn’t help her back then, was never able to save her. He would’ve been glad to forget about all her suffering, just as she did. But not her…never her. He would cherish the memory of her forever.

When Caleb first came to after the explosion, he didn’t even notice anything was amiss, apart from the fact that he was once again surrounded by white lab coats. They made him sick but he gave no sign of it.

It took some getting used to the new modified mechanical arm. In his life Caleb had considered quite a few scenarios of him becoming disabled due to his chosen field of work. He’d even considered and made his peace with the possibility of one day not making it back home to her after that one dreadful flight in the Aerospace Academy. He had to look up quite a few articles on all sorts of disorders considering how bad his dissociative amnesia got afterwards. But for some reason he’d never researched what losing a limb might feel like. He’d assumed it would just be like having a void where a limb used to be; he’d never taken phantom pain into consideration.

When confronted by her, he said “I barely feel any pain unless it’s under repair.” And even though it was true—the electric shocks going through his body while the arm was under repair were quite painful—he didn’t want her to worry, so he decided not to tell her the whole truth.

For the most part he’d learnt to ignore the phantom pain, he’d tune it out, leaving it somewhere in the background. It’s not as if he’d never dealt with pain before. But other times he’d jolt awake and not be able to go back to sleep for the rest of the night. Sometimes he’d just stare into a mirror for a while in an attempt to make his brain somehow understand and accept the fact that his arm was no more.

It felt like some new intricate type of torture if he was being completely honest. Feeling the pain but not his arm, it was maddening. He’d picked up the habit of scrabbing the area surrounding the mechanical arm—where the seam of it met his torso—red while showering, and subconsciously scratching it whenever he was stressed and felt a phantom pain spike.

Sometimes it felt as if there was an infesting rot under the surface of the mechanical arm, it was burning and throbbing threatening to spread through his whole body. Caleb couldn’t help but think if the rot was eating away at him, if one day he’d wake up to being rotten to the core—nothing human left of him, just some machine with no thoughts, feelings, or emotions of his own. No flesh left to sense her with, just metal and wires. 

He’d still love her somehow. Even if only just a fraction of his consciousness was left, he’d find a way to hold on to her, cling to the idea of her.

For the time being, Caleb tried not to think of those things. He had to protect her whatever it took, whatever the price may be.

One day she caught him, though. He was careless; he got lost in his thoughts staring into space in his bedroom. He just got out of shower and didn’t put a shirt on yet. 

“What are you doing?” her voice came from the door. “I knocked but you didn’t answer…”

How deep did he have to sink into it all to not even notice? He’d huff out a bitter chuckle if there was any strength left in him to do that.

“What happened to your shoulder?” worry palpable in her voice. Great. She was moving closer, not waiting for his permission to enter the room now that she saw the crime scene because of course she wouldn’t. Caleb tried to cover it up by putting his shirt on. He wasn’t fast enough, though. She caught him red handed. “Caleb?” her beautiful voice laced with worry once again because of him, it made his stomach turn.

“It’s nothing.” He tried but she was already inspecting the reddish area.

She gave him one of those angry frowns she was really good at. “You big dummy,” she said pushing him to sit back down on his bed. “Don’t move.” Then she left the room.

Caleb wasn’t about to disobey her; she’d be even more mad and something was telling him he was in big enough trouble already.

When she came back, it was with a first-aid kit in her hand. She didn’t say a word though, silently getting to work, disinfecting the raw skin around the mechanical arm and gently blowing on it even though Caleb gave no indication of it burning. He never would in front of her. She was probably aware of that, too.

A few minutes later Caleb found himself bandaged and she was looking at him with such intense that he couldn’t bear it, so he glanced away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Her endeavor to see through him fruitless, she decided to ask him, “Where does it hurt?” 

Of course, she realized it wasn’t a question of whether or not it hurt but of where exactly it hurt. Sometimes Caleb hated the way she knew him so well.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and loudly exhaled through his nose, still not looking at her. She wouldn’t have it obviously, so her hands came to his cheeks to hold his head up. There was hurt in her eyes and the knowledge of being the one to put it there broke him.

“I—” he tried; his voice raspy. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say, once again feeling like he was failing her. The rot bubbling up under the metal, gradually trying to overcome him.

“What are you sorry for?” she asked, tenderly caressing his cheeks with her fingers. “Please tell me.”

“I lied.” Her expression became confused but she stayed silent giving him time to elaborate. “It hurts all the time,” Caleb’s voice broke, his vision blurry and he knew what that meant, so he had to push the lump in his throat down and will the tears back. They had no place here.

She leaned into him, pressing her forehead onto his own, the tiny bit of pressure grounding for Caleb. Then he felt one of her hands go down from his face to his neck, to his clavicle, to his bandaged shoulder then down the mechanical arm. Caleb could swear he was able to feel the lightness, the warmth of her touch, the gentle way her fingers ran over the metal. It wasn’t true but he could still feel it, a breathy exhale falling from his lips.

When she drew back, he was barely able to hold in a whimper. Don’t go, please. Don’t leave me, he wanted to beg. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She got on her knees beside his right arm and took his mechanical hand into her own. The metal most certainly way colder than her flesh and blood palm. 

Looking him straight in the eye, she pulled his hand towards her mouth and left a light kiss on one of the fingers. Caleb’s breath hitched and he was ready to burst into tears right then and there. The softness of her gaze—not leaving his even for a moment—combined with the little kisses she was peppering onto the metal surface made his heart swell with love for her. There was not a single thought of rot left in head. How could there be any? When she was touching him so gently, with such careful attention, as if he was something worth cherishing even with a cold piece of metal instead of an arm.

Her lips gradually made their way up his forearm, making sure to meticulously leave kisses everywhere she could. Finally, she got to the seam of the metal and pressed her lips onto the bandages before moving to the exposed skin of his torso and neck. Caleb’s breath—an erratic chaos by that point—got caught in his throat, as he felt hot air from her mouth hit his jugular.

He moved his hands to her back to press her body as close as possible to his own, slotting their mouths together, stealing the whimper of surprise off her lips. The kiss messy but short. His left hand came up to cup her cheek.

She was looking at him with her brows furrowed. “Don’t ever lie to me again,” she said with a light hit to his chest. “If you’re hurting, I’ll be right there with you, hurting by your side.”

“I don’t want you to hurt,” was all Caleb could master in response.

She looked at him with pity. “I’ll hurt anyway. Even more so if you hide your pain from me for my sake.”

And it sounded so familiar. Caleb huffed out a bitter laugh, realizing she was just like him at the end of the day. Even thinking and feeling about him the same way he did for her.

“Okay then,” Caleb said. “We’ll hurt together.”

“Deal,” she replied and took both his hands into hers intertwining their fingers.

[thunderousjustice]

Abgerny character design in my AU, Melodies category.

Extra

Okay, after publishing Beats and Effects designs, it's time to publish Melodies designs! Sorry for being absent for quite some time, it's because I have a lot of work to do to prepare for living in the dorm and going to university in a few months (yes, I'm going to go to university because I just graduated a few weeks ago). During that time, I tried to find some free time to finish drawing Melodies, and this group took me the longest to think of their outfits because I couldn't figure out how to draw them to fit their careers lol. Barry and Wally had their outfits for a long time, but Vurr, Kori, and Molly couldn't think of any. It took me 3 whole days to figure out their outfits (I was really burned out at that time, okay? When I finished my errands, the only thing I wanted to do was "rest", not draw. Drawing is just a hobby that I do when I feel like it, not all the time like many artists do). Okay, enough of that digression, let's get into today's content. As you can see, Melodies is a bit more special than the other casts. This is evident in the fact that Vurr and Wally have their own logos that reflect their animal avatars in the VR world. Kori has two designs, one before his pet chinchilla dies (Kori without the chinchilla coat) and one after his pet chinchilla dies (Kori with the chinchilla coat). And Molly has the "???" sign after her violin career. I'll slowly explain the reasons for putting these designs on the characters in order.

First up is the Vurr's. The reason I put Vurr's logo on the back of her laptop is nothing more than to "decorate" Vurr a little bit to make Vurr stand out from the rest of the characters, lol. Vurr's design is pretty "plain and bland" compared to the other characters in my opinion. So to make Vurr not look too much like a side character, I put a little effort into drawing a pink fox logo on the back of her laptop to make up for her already plain design. (Vurr's logo doesn't affect the main story. So don't expect too much from a "decoration")

The Wally logo is included because it is important to the main story and Wally in particular. If anyone has ever heard of a group of people who call themselves "Motorcycle Club", you will know what they are famous for. But if you don't know and have never heard of it before... then you should study it yourself because I am too lazy to explain it lol. If I were to explain it, it would be too long. But I will briefly tell you the background of Wally in my AU that motivated him to join the Motorcycle Club called "Pecyn Blaidd" (meaning "Wolf Pack" in Welsh).

"Wally was born into a family with a lot of problems. Mostly from his "father" who often abused him both physically and mentally. His mother often did not dare to stop him and let Wally be abused by his father often (but she still loved Wally, she was just afraid of her husband). Wally could not stand it one day and decided to run away from home temporarily. Along the way, he came across a motorcycle club called "Pecyn Blaidd" and saw their work together, which impressed Wally very much and he decided to join them immediately when the club's Vice President invited him to join because he saw potential in Wally. As time passed, Wally began to feel a "sense of belonging" in the club that he joined, something that he could not find in his own home. He had many friends in the club and was highly respected by them for his ability to coordinate with members effectively, to the point of being promoted to "Sergeant of Arms", which was quite a high rank that suited Wally's abilities. However, the club was not all good because there were many times that the club committed illegal acts and had conflicts with other motorcycle clubs. There were many times that Wally often got involved in such matters, causing problems with those close to him, especially Carl, who was his best friend and often warned him not to volunteer to do bad things that the higher-ups ordered, but Wally often did not listen and often claimed that he did it because it was his "duty" and that he had come too far to back down now. Wally's stubbornness and aggressive behavior often led to him arguing with others, to the point where some of them ended their relationship with Wally. Only Carl tolerated Wally's bad behavior because he believed that Wally could be improved if he was given the right guidance."

Why is Kori's occupation a scientist in your AU? Well, the reason might sound a bit random, but I think Kori is someone who likes to spend most of his free time burying himself in books to learn about various things. The creator said that Kori gets irritated easily and prefers to be alone. People with this personality type usually like to do quiet activities, including reading books. So Kori burying himself in books might suit him well (I think). It's also another reason why Frank likes Kori, even though Kori treats him like trash, lol. In my AU, Kori is a scientist like him (even though Kori doesn't specify that he's a scientist who's good at something like Frank) and has more knowledge than Frank, which makes him interested. Frank usually ends up getting kicked out by Kori out of frustration and annoyance because he likes to ask Kori about things too much, which distracts Kori from works a lot, lol.

The last thing is the "???" after Molly's violinist occupation. This part is considered a "secret", just like the nationality that Paul lied about in my AU. But I'll give you a hint as to why Molly has the "???". Basically, Molly has two occupations. The first occupation is a violinist. As for her second job, Molly chooses not to mention it for the safety of herself and those around her. She has a secret mission that, if completed, will reveal something that she has been "hung up on" since she was a child, and she will do whatever it takes to make it happen. (Don't worry, Molly is still a scaredy-cat, she just gets serious (in her own way) when she is faced with a danger she is willing to put herself through.)

Okay, that's the gist of it. I've explained a lot, and some of you might got too lazy to read til now. That's all for today. See you next time in the last category of Abgerny character designs, "Vocals"! (I know you guys are expecting the most from William's design in my AU, but unfortunately, William's design in Wendigo form "will not be revealed" in the next post. The next will reveal William's design in "Normal mode", not in in Horror mode. It will be a while before I get to the point where I draw the Horror design of Abgerny's character in my AU, so don't expect too much for now, lol.)

Someone: What about Barry? What is his information-

Barry and the others' info will definitely be done after all the character designs are done, okay? I like everything to be done in a systematic way, otherwise I get confused and forget what I'm supposed to do.

[sepublic]

I really admire the writers for how they tend to handle limitations in this show and really make them work in favor of TOH, because I think about how Hexside originally wasn’t supposed to be that prevalent in S1, but then executives mandated it be. And instead of being begrudging about Hexside and dropping it the first moment they had as soon as S2 –with its greater creative freedom– rolled around, the writers actually made it work and continued to see Hexside through all the way to the end, instead of punishing fans who DID end up liking it. And that was quite a few of us, indicating it was done well enough to appeal.

The writers had the school setting play into Luz’s neurodivergency by showing how she learned differently, it played into Eda’s arc by having her get over her own biases and personal issues to let Luz grow, eventually leading to her starting a university. We got to see learning reframed in a positive light for a lot of these kids who are considered weirdoes for wanting that, and the beginnings of rebellion against the coven system. With Luz, this emphasized how she didn’t fit into any binaries and categories, which is a major motif she learns to be proud of. The theme of education and people being allowed to learn magic for its sake goes hand in hand. And Hexside provided the backdrop for a lot of important episodes. It’d end up being relevant to Hunter’s arc later on, and he was introduced properly in S2!

Plus, the shortening; With how that worked, the crew had to rush a lot of stuff, squeeze in a lot of major events within S2B. But they made the crowded feeling work, because it really helped you feel as helpless as the protagonists because they were being overwhelmed with so many revelations and issues. It helps the viewer relate to Eda’s sense of hopelessness, her lack of a plan. It made Edge of the World more tragic, because Luz tries to distract herself from the trauma of Hollow Mind with what seems to be a low-stakes adventure and this is explicitly brought up as a way to keep the kids safe… But it just ends up tying back into Hollow Mind and the Day of Unity anyway, showing that there is no escape. 

It’s like Pandora’s Box, the point of no return, the story event that’s activated the ending. It’s surrounding everyone on all sides, and with the Day of Unity impending, it feels as if there just isn’t enough time, both on a meta and in-universe scale. There’s no space to breathe, and that uncertainty of things ending too fast is recaptured; In a way, it’s as if the end of the show being brought about too soon for viewers is like the end of the world coming for the protagonists.

And again that makes me think of how Dana Terrace explicitly said that she wanted to focus on the good, the benefits, of the altered story and how the writers had to make things work and tie together in response to all that; “Limitation breeds creativity,” she said as her justification. And she said she was proud of the storyline they otherwise wouldn’t have done, and I agree now that I’ve seen it!!! It’s different yet meaningful in its own apples way, just as the original un-shortened plan would’ve been in an oranges way. Idk it’s just really cool, and I can see why that inspired Dana to attempt a ‘Choose your own adventure’ format for a Patreon project, to again have fun with that on-your-toes experience, before she had to focus on her new job.

[bonewaryreblogs]

Kell Mossa the Pariah, the Great Darkness, and the Ghost Zone

I already gave a short history for Pariah/Pariah Dark, but I’ve decided some things and I may as well embellish a bit and organize his story the same way I’m doing everyone else’s.

Kell Mossa was a brilliant scientist who wanted to see the Big Bang for himself, ignoring warnings from his colleagues, and inadvertently bringing his universe to Anti-Monitor’s attention. Monitor, Anti-Monitor’s “good” twin brother, decided to punish Kell for his hubris; Monitor told Kell that he’d awoken Anti-Monitor from essentially stasis and that Anti-Monitor’s path of destruction was Kell’s fault. All of these universes destroyed because Kell woke Anti-Monitor, because he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

While this is true in cannon, I’ve decided that, for my story, the twin’s roles are more similar to Ink!Sans and Error!Sans (you cannot escape the Undertale!) where Monitor watches over the infinite multiverse created by their elder brother, World Forger, and Anti-Monitor destroys universes that are deemed either useless, redundant, or potentially harmful to the rest of the multiverse, for World Forger to recycle into new universes. Anti-Monitor was inadvertently drawn to Kell’s universe because of his experiment, landing it in the “potentially harmful” category when it wasn’t supposed to be, so Monitor let Anti-Monitor destroy it. Since Kell was the cause of the disturbance, Monitor punished him with the (slightly inaccurate) knowledge that the destruction of Kell’s universe and several others was entirely Kell’s fault. After thoroughly traumatizing the poor scientist, Monitor finished rubbing Kell’s nose in his mistake, renamed him Pariah, and cursed him to basically be the plaything for the Great Darkness. The Great Darkness rather sadistically decided to make Pariah think he was safe to live a normal life in a random universe, only to be drawn to disasters (of varying levels), compelled to give warnings that would never be headed (to maintain timeline integrity), and forced to watch tragedy after tragedy that he alone ever survived. Not aware of his connection to the Great Darkness, Pariah continued to blame himself for the tragedies, thinking they followed him rather than the other way around, until one tragedy ended up stranding him in the remains of a destroyed universe.

In canon, Flash finds him and sends him to the “paradise world” called  Earth-Flash.1, but in my story Pariah managed to get caught in the backlash of the Fenton’s initial failed ghost portal experiment and sucked into a pocket dimension connecting the Fountain of Life to Purgatory/Limbo. This was unprecedented, so the Great Darkness hid the incident from Monitor/Anti-Monitor so they wouldn’t destroy this universe or the pocket dimension, letting the drama play out. The pocket dimension was quickly flooded with waters from the Fountain of Life, corrupted by the lack of contact with the Fountain’s source but not quite as corrupted as the water of a Lazarus Pit. Pariah absorbed a lot of it, and since the stuff is meant for higher beings, it tends to have some “side effects” on mortals, even mortals connected to gods. For Pariah, it gave him immense power and warped his mind; if he was destined to cause tragedies, then he may as well be proactive about it.

Proclaiming himself the Ghost King, and the pocket dimension the Ghost Zone, Pariah stole souls from Limbo/Purgatory as they waited to be sorted into various afterlives and tried to turn them into an army to invade the physical plane of Earth, he didn’t really care which one. Unfortunately for Pariah, the stolen souls were driven by emotion and, when exposed to the “ectoplasm” of the Ghost Zone, became nigh uncontrollable, like herding cats, but time flowed differently in the Ghost Zone so he had plenty of time...

Until the Drs Fenton opened a new ghost portal and synced their timescales. Now on a deadline, Pariah sped up his timetable and started looking for Ghostly Generals he could trust. Fright Knight was one of them, and I’ll have to find some others, but the latest was Aztar, the Vengeance of God on Earth and the spirit powering the hero Spectre. Having replaced Eclipso as God’s Wrath a long time ago, Aztar needed a human host to interact with the physical realm and the host acted as a sort of leash on Aztar’s darker tendencies; while the last host, Jim Corrigan, was in the process of transferring Aztar to the next host, Crispus Allen, Pariah interrupted the ritual and convinced Aztar to join him. Pariah offered Aztar unfettered access to the physical plane, without the need of a host to hold him back, and Aztar decided he was indeed tired of being shackled to some goodie-two-shoes human and accepted Pariah’s offer to become one of his generals. Jim Corrigan died as Aztar left his body and Cris Allen was left unpowered and freaking out that he’d lost a divine spirit.

By the time Cris (a Gotham Detective) informed Batman of this development, Danny Phantom had begun organizing a rebellion against Pariah, which mostly consisted of Phantom’s various Rogues Gallery who didn’t want to fall in line with the self-proclaimed King of the Ghost Zone. Batman, along with Cris and several members of the Justice League and Justice League Dark, managed to get themselves into the Ghost Zone and joined Danny’s resistance, leading to the eventual defeat of Pariah the Ghost King.

Little did they know, despite his trauma and warped perspective, Pariah was still a scientist at heart and had discovered his connection to the Great Darkness, using his new ghost powers and a clever machine to turn the connection back on the Darkness. With his initial plan of a ghost army ruined, Pariah harnessed the power of the Great Darkness to create a new army under his direct control, now calling himself Pariah Dark. The Darkness could have fought back and stopped this at any time but found Pariah’s audacity fascinating and, frankly, hilarious, letting the drama unfold.